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Anyway, I'm quite interested to know what you think about this chapter. So without any further ado, here is the next chapter.
Chapter 21: Musician
Adan was young. He knew that.
He was impulsive and hot-headed and adventurous.
But he had never actually seen danger. His penchant for thrills came from wooing an impossibly gorgeous mermaid or sneaking through the royal chambers during a feast that he was supposed to be performing at.
That moment was when adrenaline surged through his veins. That was when he felt truly alive.
In this particular moment, he felt none of those things. Actually, he felt a little ill. Yes, definitely ill. Violently, painfully ill.
And it was all because of his infuriating curiosity.
The week had begun rather well. Several days prior, the palace had embarked on a late summer excursion into the meadows outside of Cair Paravel. High King Peter had recently recovered from an unknown illness and the city was riddled with tension. The Queens had offered the outing as a way to break that tension.
The affair had been highly chatted about amongst the serving staff and as a part of the musical troupe Adan had been included in the pomp and circumstance. He was excited for the change of pace, yes, but he was more excited about the prospect of attention turned entirely on him. As a faun, music was a part of his blood. No one could draw magical figures from the depth of a flame or the silken turn of a petal better than Adan.
Hence, he'd polished his flutes. He'd also finagled an excellent seat by a stunning young courtier, feeling very confident about the hours to be spent beneath the stars and the moon.
The journey to the meadows near the Rush river was unremarkable, consuming an entire day for the full company to traverse the dusty roads. His companion fell asleep only an hour into their journey and proceeded to snore through most of their time together.
Adan was grateful when the wagon lurched to a stop and the shouted instructions echoed through their campsite. The following morning had dawned bright and dewy. The Kings and Queens requested a walk through the hills and so the day was spent traipsing across grassy knolls and forested valleys. They behaved strangely upon their return as if frustrated but seemed to calm during the dancing and music about a warm campfire.
In reality, things began to spiral downwards the following morning. They had decided to picnic near the banks of the river, a shady, forested spot near a pebbled beach.
They'd spent the morning peaceably playing a few games with brass hoops and colored sticks until a lunch of honeyed apples and hard cheese. Adan played while they lounged about the grass and ate. Eyelids grew heavy and, though the Queen Lucy skipped off with a pair of naiads farther down the bank, the rest of the royals quickly fell into a light slumber.
Adan felt a twinge of boredom as a pair of bees looped about his head. He huffed.
And a scream answered down the river.
The Kings bolted upright, darting down the riverbank. Queen Susan threw herself to her feet, "Everyone! Get back to the tents! Now! Someone, find Oreius!"
Adan straightened, considering his options. Then came the moment that Adan now rued with all his might.
A second scream, cut off into a wail, echoed down the way.
Adan was off with the speed of the Kings. He was bored, tired, and cross. Sitting under the boughs of a beech tree and then the guarded tents would do nothing to improve his mood. Besides, if he chased after danger, perhaps the bored courtier might renew her interest. And that was something Adan was very interested in.
So, off he went, crashing through the undergrowth. Only his breath and the blood pounding in his ears accompanied him.
It was difficult to say how many minutes passed before he burst through into a clearing. He was blinded momentarily by the brilliant sunlight. He heard the clash of steel on steel and then his eyes began to adjust.
Before him the two Kings battled a mass of well-equipped, very angry soldiers but instead of Rhindon in King Peter's hand, he carried a short blade about the length of his forearm. King Edmund carried a similar blade, which was strange because Adan didn't remember the Kings carrying weapons. They were attending a picnic and napping under trees.
Queen Lucy was just a few yards away. Her cheeks were marked with tears but her dagger was brandished fiercely as she stood over the crumpled form of a naiad.
Adan was not a warrior.
His skills were rather…obsolete in a situation such as this. Excusing himself seemed to be the proper thing to do. Soldiers handled this kind of trouble.
Unfortunately, he couldn't make his exit as he had already been seen.
"Lucy, run!" High King Peter looked over his shoulder. Lucy looked pained and hesitated and the King repeated himself. "Lucy, please! Run!" The raw edge to his voice was desperate.
And so she did, darting up the slope in the grass and disappearing behind Adan.
"Peter!" Edmund darted forward, covering his brother's momentary distraction.
Adan, now suddenly facing a pair of very angry bandits, turned to run when an exposed root caught his hoof and he fell hard towards the earth. It met his head hard and the world blurred. His hands knotted in the brush beneath him as he turned himself over.
He saw the dark eyes of the bandit and the glint of his sword held high above his head. He drew in a breath, his lungs closing, his vision closing around the edges.
And gold and scared replaced the bandit in the form of High King Peter.
Adan watched, jaw grazing his chest, as the two King's ducked, spun, and struck at their attackers. They were blindingly fast and frighteningly accurate. Several of the bandits lay crumpled on the ground, holding various wounds, but there were many of them and the short blades the Kings carried were effective but lacked the strength truly needed to hold off broadswords.
It seemed that they were soon to follow in the Queen's footsteps. The bandits seemed to appear from every crevice of the river bank and slowly the three Narnians were forced towards the rocky banks of the river.
Adan was sure what happened when things changed but they did. The High King spun on his heel and strode forward. He moved powerfully, grasping Adan's shoulder and shoving him towards the water. "Ed!"
"I know!"
There was a moment of stillness, an eerie sort of peace, and then it was all white and wet and rushing.
Adan felt a hand about his shoulders but it was erratic in its grip and Adan bobbed underneath the water multiple times. Cold water burned his eyes and filled his nose and mouth, tasting of earth and moss. His fingers went numb as they scrabbled against the stones passing by and could find no purchase.
His momentum ceased finally when the hands caught his left arm with a bruising force and threw him up against a flat boulder. Choking and coughing, he wrapped his arms about the edges. Air had never been so precious.
There was a wet 'smack' next to him and he cracked open an eye.
High King Peter sat beside him, his arms draped over his knees and head bowed low. He was soaked and breathing heavily. He shoved a hand up over his hair, the water-stained locks sticking straight up, and cursed. Loudly and fluently.
"You only say that now?" They both started and looked up to see King Edmund walking towards them, just as sopping wet and wearing a wry grin. "I think we qualified for that phrase a while ago."
"Whatever the case is, we've got to get back to Susan and Lucy. I don't like being out longer than is necessary." High King Peter pushed himself to his feet.
"This plan wasn't among our best ideas, I don't think."
"Well, it's the plan we've got now. Besides, we did find our attackers."
"We found a group of hired mercenaries." King Edmund corrected.
"It's more than we had last week." High King Peter reached down and offered Adan his hand. "Sorry about the dip in the river…"
"Adan," Adan supplied, hating squeak in his voice.
"I'd say it's pleasant to meet you but I think the circumstances are rather to the contrary. Come on. They'll be after us before long and I'd rather not meet them unarmed."
That is when Adan noticed that the short sword the High King had been carrying was missing. King Edmund had his but it seemed a woeful defense against those raging bandits and he found himself agreeing with the High King. He took the proffered hand and started to pull himself up.
Suddenly, the High King jerked away, his free hand darting to his shoulder with a grimace.
King Edmund darted forward, his tone low and warning, "Peter…"
"It's fine. I'm fine. Just sore."
His brother did not look so convinced but his lips thinned and he remained silent.
"Here." High King Peter offered his good arm and Adan tried to stand again.
Again, he was unsuccessful. The bone just above his hoof burned like a thousand fires had ignited inside of it and he collapsed back to the ground.
"Peter!"
"It wasn't me." The King's hand was still outstretched, his fingers closing on air.
"My ankle!" Adan's voice hadn't steadied and squeaked horribly on the last syllable.
Boots oozing water, King Edmund crouched beside Adan and without any ceremony whatsoever began to gingerly prod his shattered appendage. If Adan found it difficult to breathe before, it was almost impossible now. Sweat misted over his face and hands.
Words were mumbled but it was as though he'd had too much wine. He couldn't pick them out properly. Images were both too bright and too blurry. Sensations were limited only to pain, sweat, and tears.
He didn't know long it had been but the fog cleared eventually and he cracked open a damp eye to see a stretch of Narnian cloth dyed a brilliant scarlet. He was moving slowly but steadily. The shoulders bearing him were narrow but strong. He felt the muscles under the fabric contract as they hit a patch of uneven ground.
His head lolled to the side and he mustered the strength to look up. King Edmund, then, was the one carrying him. His eyes were darkly intense as they focused ahead of him.
He thought about saying something but he just couldn't seem to manage it. He was still damp and cold and his ankle was aching. He seemed to drift off for a little while, the world cold, hot, and graying, until his back made contact with a steeply curved hill. King Edmund's form collapsed down next to him.
Adan started to question the sudden change when the monarch's hand slapped over his mouth and he shook his head sternly. He waited a moment and in the stillness they could hear the crash of branches and the heavy footfalls of beings moving through the forest.
And that brings Adan to the present, where he was cold, pained, hot, shaking, afraid for his life. And violently ill. He couldn't forget that bit.
High King Peter was somewhere behind him. He could hear the leaves crunching as he settled. They were all deathly quiet, their breathing slowed as they listened intently. For the owner of those boots and hooves and paws would determine their rescue or their demise.
There was a flash of color and, for a moment, Adan's heart leapt. The color was a brilliant red. Surely this was a crimson banner of the Kings and Queen. But it wasn't. Or at least, he couldn't be sure. Not from this distance.
"What's our plan of attack?" The High King's eyes flicked towards his brother.
"Plan? This is your plan. Not mine," Edmund hissed back.
Adan wondered what sort of plan this was. Running through the forest, falling into rivers, enduring excruciating pain.
"Revel in your moment of glory later. We haven't got time now."
They fell quiet for a moment, the lines of their backs taught and exuding energy. The footfalls were father away but still within earshot.
"I thought this was supposed to help us figure out who attacked Su. Not isolating us in the forest."
"It was. And it did work." High King Peter stretched forward, craning his neck towards the receding troops. "Just not perfectly."
"We can't just let them get away."
"I don't intend to." The High King brandished the short sword in his hand.
A hand closed over his arm, knuckles white. "Peter…"
"We've got to do something."
"This isn't it."
The brothers stared hard at each other and Adan got the feeling that a silent conversation was playing out, privy only to the ears of the two family members. They seemed to disagree for a moment, fiercely at first but then abating as some kind of compromise seemed to be reached.
The dark-haired King sank back, eyes settling on Adan. "Are you quite well?"
Adan wasn't quite sure how to put words to what he felt so he squeaked again. From that point on, he decided that keeping his mouth shut was probably his best course of action.
"I think a visit to Rinklerhim might be in order, Ed." The High King exchanged glances with King Edmund, who nodded, and the pair went back to scouring the woods.
Simultaneously, they went ramrod straight and had another of their silent conversations. Again, King Edmund growled, "Peter, no, that's not an option."
"We don't have any choice in the matter." He patted his sibling's shoulder, eyes still on the forest, and began to stand.
"Peter!"
The High King smiled a sad kind of a smile, the kind that people give when there has been a death in the family. "We protect others before ourselves. Aslan did no less for us."
"Then let me go."
"I can't carry him," he gestured to Adan, "but I can take them on a merry chase."
"Peter…"
Several guttural shouts echoed through the moist air.
"Get him to safety, Ed. I'll be back soon." High King Peter tested the weight of the blade in his hand, face narrowing intensely, and shot off between the trees.
The remaining son of Adam curled in on himself slightly and his eyes pinched shut. "Aslan, watch over him…because I cannot." Much like the other sovereign, his face lengthened and his eyebrows drew close together.
Adan was abruptly thrown over the young King's shoulder as he began to sprint. Branches clawed at them and the King's arms tightened about his knees. Jostled about, Adan was feeling rather like an ungainly sack of potatoes.
Time seemed perfectly irrelevant as they tore through the forested hills, back towards the roaring, rushing river. Like a spooked rabbit, King Edmund skidded to a halt and turned. Adan felt his weight wobble as the king's knees weakened, throwing out a hand to catch himself on a nearby oak.
There was someone else there.
"Oreius," the name was like a breath, relieved and exhausted. The King continued to sink to the ground and Adan fell with him.
The centaur rushed towards them. "Are you harmed, your majesty?"
"Nothing that a good night's rest can't mend. I think our friend here may not have fared so well."
"And the High King?"
"My idiot brother? Aslan only knows for certain. I think he may have re-injured his shoulder again. Rinklerhim should examine him before the day's end, willing or no."
There was crashing behind them and the High King himself burst through the grasses, cheeks ruddy and eyes wide. "Ed, Oreius..." he paused upon seeing Adan. "Hullo to you as well. Do you know…I'm not sure of your name?"
Mercifully, Oreius answered for him, "he is called Adan, my lord."
"Adan, right." The banality of the comment seemed so strange that the little knoll fell silent.
King Edmund broached the silence. "Well, that was a rather dull way to spend an afternoon."
The High King's face split into a brilliant grin and then he was wrapping his brother in a hug. A giddy sort of laugh escaped both of the brothers as they smacked each other's backs.
"Let's not do that again, shall we?"
King Edmund only laughed in response and that seemed to be enough.
The march back to the tents was slow and filled with a heady exhaustion but they did manage to return before the last glow of the sun set beyond silvery ribbon of the Rush river. The courtier was at his side then, cooing and kissing with the fading sunlight highlighting her copper curls. It was at that instant that Adan decided that the day mayn't have been a complete waste after all.